


You’re My Medicine

by BlossomsintheMist



Series: Steve/Tony Kinktober 2017 [13]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Bottom Steve, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bottom Tony, Bottom Tony Stark, Clothed Male Naked Male, Clothed Top Naked Sub, Consensual Kink, Discussion of kink, Dom Tony, Dom Tony Stark, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Foreskin Play, Hand Jobs, Hints of praise kink, Kink Exploration, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Mention of Prior Relationships, Mention of switching, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Pain Kink, Partner Sex, Planning for Sex, Sexual Content, Sounding, Sub Steve, Sub Steve Rogers, Top Steve, Top Steve Rogers, Top Tony, Top Tony Stark, Uncircumcised Penis, mention of prior sex acts that did not go well, mention of prior sex acts that were somewhat traumatic, showering, solo sex, uncut cock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 12:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12507520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: It was just that Steve liked harder kinks, and it seemed like the kind of thing that would appeal to the intense sensation play side of him, always pushing himself and looking for something to send him flying higher.  It wasn’t the same as a flogger stinging over his back, but it was more intimate, more invasive, Tony figured—the same intensity, but in a totally different way, and maybe … gentler, softer.  Something it would be easier for Tony to give him the way he wanted it, even the way he liked it.Written for Day Fifteen of Kinktober: Sounding.





	You’re My Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Both Steve and Tony experience being sounded in this fic–Tony does it to himself for practice, and Steve is the main focus of the kink in the fic. (Sounding being the practice of putting a thin metal rod down the urethra, most commonly in modern times for the purpose of sexual gratification, but, at some times in the past, also for medical reasons.)
> 
> Come take control, just grab a hold  
> Of my body and mind, soon we’ll be making it, honey  
> I’ll be feeling fine,  
> You’re my medicine, open up and let me in  
> Darling, you’re so great, I can’t wait for you to operate  
> ― Marvin Gaye, “Sexual Healing”

Tony stroked one hand up Steve’s thigh, flushed hot and trembling under his fingers, wrapped them around his cock and pulled up, slow and firm, just to hear Steve groan, see the way he tilted his head back and gasped, working his hips slowly up into Tony’s hand.  “Oh,” he groaned, and his hands fisted into the covers.

“I just think you’d like it,” Tony told him, keeping his voice soft, rubbing his hand just under the head of Steve’s cock, down the underside, where he was so sensitive. Steve bit his lip, looked up at him, gasping.  His chest was heaving, and he reached out, a heavy hand landing on Tony’s shoulder, steadying himself as he gulped and panted and quivered, as Tony kept working him. “You don’t have to decide anything now, obviously,” Tony added, “just think about it, babe, for sometime,” and slid his thumb up just a little more, pushing down Steve’s foreskin as he circled his cockhead, once, twice, then skimming his thumb up, pressing into the tip leaking such copious precome, slicking Steve’s cock all the way down to his balls, leaving it slick and shining and wet to every touch of Tony’s fingers.  Steve cried out, his hand squeezing, as his back arched, and he fucked his cock forward desperately into Tony’s hand.  “See,” Tony said, “you’re so sensitive, there, and it’d feel so good, less pressure all in one place than from my thumb, but so much more intense, I promise.” He squeezed his thumb down, pressed it back and forth, a slick, slippery slide under his fingers as more precome leaked out and Steve gasped harshly for air and jerked his hips back and forth, away from Tony’s fingers than desperately back up into them.  “Deep down into you,” he purred, “into your pretty cockhead, down, down,” he trailed his fingers down along Steve’s shaft, along the underside, mapping out a line, “until you could feel it pressing just here,” he pushed in against Steve’s perineum, rocked his fingers against it, felt Steve judder and shake, his cock leaking as he gasped under Tony’s fingers, “heavy and smooth and solid and filling you up from the inside out.”

Steve moaned.  His mouth looked wet, his eyes glassy and blown, and he whimpered as Tony rolled his fingers into his perineum, fucking them gently against the sensitive skin, knowing that Steve could feel it against his prostate if he pushed hard enough.  His fingers clenched on Tony’s shoulder, and he sounded desperate, voice broken and rough and scratching, when he panted out, “Oh, Tony, God.”  His hand slid down, jacked himself, his thumb rubbing hard into his own slit until he was writhing, moaning, tossing his head back. “Inside, it goes inside?”

“Yeah,” Tony murmured, and rubbed his knuckles against Steve’s cock.  “Right down inside here, tiger,” he said, and rubbed them more firmly against his base, right above his balls.  “Deep inside, filling you up all the way down here.”

“Hell,” Steve said, sounding utterly blown, dizzy with it, and rocked his hips, rolling his cock up against Tony.  “You think, I, I.  I’d like it?”

“Sure do, cupcake,” Tony murmured, because he did, he thought Steve would _love_ it, that it would absolutely blow his mind, but he didn’t want to pressure him, either, “but you decide that part, okay?”

Steve moaned, his thighs trembling, the hand not gripping desperately to Tony’s shoulder coming up to rub his own nipple, pinching and tugging at the hard, flushed skin, even more precome welling up and leaking down over his cock as he did, making it an easy slide for Tony’s hand as he closed it again, dragging it up along him in a firm, steady stroke.

“That’s it,” Tony murmured, “just let yourself feel it, sugar,” and leaned forward to settle his mouth over Steve’s cock, tonguing gently at the slit and relishing Steve’s shudder, the hot pulse of precome that leaked out over his tongue, the throb and hot quiver of his cock, the way Steve gasped, moaned and choked, before he closed his mouth and sucked.

Tony wasn’t actually expecting Steve to take him up on the idea any time soon.  Sounding was an out there kink, or at least Tony thought it was sort of on the edge, personally, and with Steve’s history with medical care—Tony knew perfectly well that Steve had issues with, well, anything medical, really. As much as he thought Steve would love sounding if he let Tony give it a try for him, he also was well aware of why Steve might resist the idea, even why he might be too turned off by the reminder of something like a catheter down his cock to ever find it appealing, let alone let it happen if he didn’t have to.  And that would be fine with Tony.  He really had just brought it up because he thought Steve would enjoy it. But he figured he’d have to bring it up a few more times, sort of ease Steve into it, before Steve would even really consider it.  And that was good.  He didn’t want Steve to jump into it just because Tony had mentioned it, or mentioned wanting to do it to him.  He only wanted to do it if Steve genuinely thought it would feel good or turn him on and was totally on board with the idea.

It was just that Steve liked harder kinks, and it seemed like the kind of thing that would appeal to the intense sensation play side of him, always pushing himself and looking for something to send him flying higher.  It wasn’t the same as a flogger stinging over his back, but it was more intimate, more invasive, Tony figured—the same intensity, but in a totally different way, and maybe … gentler, softer.  Something it would be easier for Tony to give him the way he wanted it, even the way he liked it.

So it totally took Tony by surprise—gobsmacked him, more like, when Steve said, out of the blue and a little shyly, one night in the shower after they’d just had sex, and Tony had just gotten Steve off one more time with his hand and was still stroking him idly, running a hand over his hips, his abs, sliding a hand between his thighs and rubbing at the strong muscle there, pushing his face down into Steve’s shoulder and just inhaling his scent, the strong soapy warmth of him, relishing in his closeness, his hand on the back of Tony’s shoulder, the way he was resting his cheek on his hair, his steady breathing, “You know, that thing, that—that thing you mentioned, with the.  Christ, I don’t know how to say this.  The metal rod down my cock?”

Tony blinked, tried not to react too obviously.  “Sure,” he said, easily enough, he thought, and teased his thumb gently against the tip of Steve’s cock, against his slit, smiling as Steve gave a little grunting gasp of a noise, sucked in his breath, and pushed up against it.  He knew he had to be oversensitive there; he always was after an orgasm—but he also knew Steve liked the bite of oversensitivity, the pain of a touch to that oh-so-very-sensitive place, at times, especially if there was just a little tease of it.  “The sound?”

“That’s it,” Steve said, sounding relieved.  “Sounding, that’s what it was called.”

“Yes, exactly, buttercup,” Tony purred, mentally reviewing all his research on sounding, their conversation about it, what he’d told Steve and what he’d just implied.  He lifted his head, stroked his other hand along Steve’s neck.  “That’s it. Why do you ask?”

Steve smiled a bit sheepishly, and his cheeks were going red.  “Well,” he said.  “Isn’t that, uh, obvious?”

Tony stroked his hand down Steve’s cock gently, enjoying the way he shuddered softly, almost delicately, under him, despite his big body, all his strength, pushed him back against the wall of the shower, under the warm spray, and ran the pads of his fingers along his neck. “I don’t know, tiger,” he murmured. “I’m going to need you to say it.”

“Oh, well, then,” Steve said, turning even redder, so that his blush stained down over his chest, all the way to his still-perky, red nipples, all bruised and flushed and tender and swollen from the attention Tony had paid them while he got Steve off. “Yeah.  I, uh, I’d like to try that out.”

“Mmm,” Tony said, and smiled, leaning up to kiss him.  “I can do that for you, stud.  I can definitely make that happen.”

He still checked in, multiple times, over the course of the following week, while he prepared, making sure that Steve was—well, that he was fully informed, that he really knew what it involved.  Gratifyingly enough, every piece of information he gave Steve just seemed to make his eyes darken that little bit more, dilate that little extra bit with lust, and when Tony described how he thought it would feel for Steve, he bit his lip and surreptitiously got his hand down between his legs to rub at himself, groping and squeezing his cock.  So at least it honestly turned him on, that was for sure.

Tony discovered, after buying a set of sounds that were supposed to be artisan, best available quality, top of the line, that however expensive they were, they were, first of all, not quite the right length for Steve’s dimensions (Tony had had the ones relevant to Steve’s dick memorized for years, and it wasn’t hard to calculate the rest of the ones he’d need, especially since Steve never complained when Tony wanted to put his hand on his cock, especially not about the orgasms that Tony made sure went with it), and secondly, not nearly high enough quality for his standards.  So he immediately set about making his own.  Hey, it was simple enough, and finally he had a set he was happy with, slim, smooth perfect metal in a variety of sizes.  Once he was done, he got one of the shorter ones, just about thick enough that he figured it wouldn’t be too dangerous, bought an entire pack of hospital strength sanitary lube, and spent an afternoon when Steve was out on a mission and Tony was at home practicing on himself, lubing up his cock and tip and piss slit and the sound and slowing sinking it into himself. 

Tony had been sounded once or twice before, but it hadn’t been spectacular—actually, it had been kind of traumatic, especially the first time.  He’d been young, and the feeling of something invading him like that, going deep inside his penis, had felt profoundly wrong in a way he didn’t know how to describe, utterly overwhelming, until he’d wanted to squirm in his hips and just grab it and pull it out but had been afraid to move, afraid to so much as twitch, as he lay there and Sunset had fucked his cock with the sound until he wanted to throw up, shaking and feeling cold sweat form on his back, his neck, his thighs, at the idea that he might gape open afterwards _there_.  (He hadn’t, but it had burned like hell to pee for the next couple of days, and she’d laughed at him.)  The next time had been better.  Marianne had stroked the back of his neck, his hair, done it so gently it had actually felt good, so much less invasive it had left Tony almost confused, reeling from the feeling.  The next time after that had been worse again.

But Tony and Steve were very different people, and Tony had thought back to that good time and remembered how overwhelming, how softly, sweetly penetrated, deeply and profoundly fucked, but in a loving way, it had made him feel.  He thought he might have teared up, even, it had felt that good. And he thought it was the kind of thing Steve would like.  He hoped he was right.

Anyway, it was really different, doing it on himself.  For one thing, it was less entirely overwhelming, when he could control the speed, the pace, how deep it went inside him, though the deep heavy slide as it slid into him, just sort of _falling_ down the length of his cock, still took his breath away, and when Tony caught his breath, balancing himself with one hand on the bed behind him, he found his chest heaving, tears stinging the edges of his eyes so they felt wet. Which was a little embarrassing, but no one else was there to see him, so he let himself clutch at his chest (it was instinctive, now, almost, when he needed to catch his breath, to rub at his chest, trying to soothe his own breathing) and blink the tears out of his eyes. Then he gave the sound a little tug.

It was well-lubed, but the slide was still so intense it almost hurt, and Tony ended up hunched over his own knees, panting for breath again.  He played with it a little, finally getting used to the feeling, the deep, all-encompassing slide in, the almost painful feeling of it bottoming out, finding the right angle for it to slide into him just a little deeper, until when he reached down to feel at his perineum he could feel it just there, through the sensitive skin.

Which was—something else, that was for sure, and Tony explored the feeling for a while, curious, feeling himself quiver and shake almost as if from a long way away as shivery sensation went through his whole body as the metal shifted under his fingers, and then it hit his prostate, and pleasure exploded behind his eyes, and _whoa_.  Whoa.

Tony blinked stars out of his eyes and tried to catch his breath.  His tip felt wet with precome as well as lube under his fingers where they gripped the sound above his head, his dick throbbing all the way up and down its length like it wanted to get hard even though his dick still lay there soft and flaccid against his hand.  His skin felt hot under his hand when he gave it a tentative rub with his thumb, and oh, God, wow.  Okay, that was.  Okay.

Tony ended up on his back, staring at the ceiling, still careful to hold the sound and his cock in both hands as he gasped and panted for breath, tried to blink stars out of his eyes.  He reached down then, rubbed his prostate with the sound a little more, through his perineum, pressing it in, rocking it gently, in toward himself then back out, couldn’t help it, feeling himself panting, his own breath loud in his ears, at the sensation.  It was a long time before he could concentrate on doing anything else, and his cock was leaking so much his whole hand, his palm, felt sticky, even though he was still soft, his cock burning and hot around the sound.  When he pulled it out, it felt like he was coming, even though he was still soft, and the pleasure was overpowering, wrenching at the base of his stomach and in his balls, hot and vivid and so real, so hot and so deeply overwhelming that Tony found himself curled up on his side in the bed, rocking back and forth and making embarrassing whimpering noises that he’d have been embarrassed to admit to, burying his face in his biceps and clutching the blankets tightly as he pressed his sweaty cheek into the bed and just _moaned_ , his cock throbbing, pulsing, aching, still soft and hot in his hand, and when he finally came back to himself, he realized his hand was smeared with his own seminal fluid, even though he’d never once hardened.

So.  That had been intense.

Tony tried it out in front of a mirror, next, trying to put how embarrassing it felt like he looked out of his mind, biting his lip and trying to get the angle right as he slid it in, and just concentrating on how it looked from the outside as he shifted the angle so it could slide in just that little bit deeper, how it looked as he found the soft weight of it against his perineum with his fingers, what it looked like when he found that good pace that didn’t burn too much, that felt strange and slick and good as the metal fucked him from the inside out.  He spread his legs, shifted to the side, held his dick up, lay back a little, making sure to get a good view and trying to ignore how overwhelmed and dizzy it made him feel, even more now that he was watching it, even if the visuals did somehow make it easier to bear without just floating away on the sensations, too.  It felt like he was coming when he pulled it out that time, too, and he found himself kneeling on the floor, as he caught himself with one hand and gasped for breath and the sound just slid out of his cock with his hand barely on it to guide it out and come spattered out of him after it over the tiles.

But the point was, he did a full scan on himself afterwards, and he didn’t get a UTI or develop an infection or a puncture in his urethral wall or anything else completely awful, so he must have done it right, even if his dick did feel sore and tender and insanely sensitive to anything for about a day after, and even Steve’s big hand pawing him just a little made him wince, hyper-aware of the slight burn and sensitivity that still shivered up and down inside his cock even when he himself pressed on it.  Steve figured out that he was sensitive, though Tony wasn’t sure if he realized from what, and pushed him down onto the bed, eased his thighs apart with his big hands smoothing gentle and warm, massaging, over the muscle, and sucked his cock so gently and softly, all soft kisses and the wet, gentle warmth of his mouth and soft suction, laving his tongue over the head and slipping it into the tender, sensitive slit as if he’d fuck him with it, and Tony came so quickly and softly and easily it shocked him, the come burning out of his still sensitive cockhead like it was still doing a little bit when he peed, burning all the way down the length of his urethra with a flare of sensation that somehow just more made it more intense until he was slipping out on that soft, gentle pleasure and just lying there lax and loose and gasping on the bed, feeling warm all over, maybe shaking a little, and Steve came up beside him and curled next to him and stroked his chest, his shoulder, his side, his hip, smiling at him as Tony drifted and tried to catch his breath, leaning down to kiss him before Tony quite had his breath back, and he just gasped and moaned and arched up into it, clutching at Steve’s hair at the back of his neck with one hand.

So that had been one of the best orgasms of Tony’s life, and it came on the heels of the sounding, which had been really something else all on its own, and Tony figured that dubious early experiences aside, that was a pretty damn good recommendation.  He couldn’t wait to see how Steve was going to react to it.  Steve, who was so much more sensitive than he was.  Tony remembered how tender his whole body had felt afterwards, sensitive and fucked out like the sound in his cock had somehow affected every single one of his nerve endings, weak and tired with his muscles like water, and, anxious as he was to give it all a test run, made himself wait for a weekend he _knew_ they were going to have free.  He even made Clint and Jan and Thor swear to take over all patrols and superheroing duties for the next few days, barring world-ending catastrophe, just in case Doom got the idea that his feud with Richards needed some extra action to punch it up again, or Fin Fang Foom showed up breathing fire (literally) or the Serpent Society heard there was going to be an exotic snake exhibit or you know, whatever.  He even made sure to tell Steve about his plans, so he could prepare.  He wanted Steve ready and excited, anticipating this, and if the way Steve licked his lips and swallowed and eagerly agreed, his eyes going dark and dilated and huge—well, he was looking forward to it, too.

They also had more sex in the next few days leading up to the weekend than they’d had in the whole month before.  Steve had never been good at the whole delayed gratification thing when it came to sex, and if that meant that twice a day he was rocking a hand up between Tony’s legs and grabbing at his cock as soon as they were alone together, opening his shirt and sloppily, wetly mauling at his shoulder, sucking at his lips and rubbing up against Tony through their pants, against his hip and thigh, like he couldn’t even _wait_ —well, Tony wasn’t complaining. It was incredibly flattering, to think the thought had turned Steve on so much, made him so horny and needy and eager, as it always was, to think Steve _wanted him_ that much, _him_. By the time they got to the weekend, Tony’s whole body was sore with a tender, throbbing, sexy kind of ache, fingertip bruises tattooed on his hips and thighs and a big bruised red hickey on the sensitive skin behind his knee, and he woke up that Saturday morning feeling bruised and aching and still wet and tender inside after another round after their date the night before and loving every moment of it.

Sex exhaustion.  It was a helluva thing.  Still, he was glad he was going to be mostly focusing on Steve that night.  His hips _ached_.  Tony slid a hand down, pressed it into the bruises there with a dreamy smile, feeling the twinge and throb at the pressure, then rolled over and sought out Steve’s warmth in the bed, nuzzling into his chest and leaving a kiss on his shoulder.  Steve sighed sleepily, and his hand came up and stroked into Tony’s hair, as Steve huffed out a breath into Tony’s neck, dragged a kiss over his lips, and slipped back into sleep.

Tony just lay there for a while longer, luxuriating in the feeling of Steve relaxed and sleepy pressed against him.  He was wearing an athletic shirt and he smelled of fresh soap and shampoo, so he’d gone running and come back to bed, but he still didn’t get to wake up curled up in Steve’s arms very often, and the thought that he’d gone back to sleep there was somehow inexpressibly sweet.

They didn’t, usually, have sex in the afternoon, but Tony just wasn’t willing to wait around (and risk that Doombot attack scenario), and besides, Steve had been flushed all day, biting his lip and shy about meeting Tony’s eyes, if mostly his regular self in other ways, so a few hours after lunch, Tony decided they should get started.

“You know, Tony,” Steve said, soft, still playing his tongue over his bottom lip as he watched Tony move toward him where he sat on the edge of the bed again.  He knelt in front of the bed, resting the case with the sounds on it as he wiped each one down with rubbing alcohol, just so that Steve could watch him.  He reached out, rested a hand on the back of Tony’s neck, and it actually felt slightly sweaty, which was already a turn on that made Tony’s stomach flip and knot, to think that Steve was so keyed up his hands were sweating.  Steve’s eyes looked huge where they focused on the sounds. “I realize I should have probably have thought to ask this earlier, but has—has anyone ever, I mean.  Done this to you?”

“Yep,” Tony said, and smiled up at him, though he’d just washed his hands as thoroughly as he had in his entire life, so he didn’t reach out to touch him.

“Did you like it?” Steve said in a hushed, soft voice.

“Uh,” Tony said. “Let’s just say it wasn’t awful?” And then, in a spirit of honesty, he felt compelled to add, “I liked it when I did it to myself.”

“Oh,” Steve said, and his voice had dropped almost an entire octave, when he said, “Oh, wow.”  Tony got the distinct impression that he was imagining that and was turned on by it, which made him feel warm and flattered and a little sheepish, like he was a preteen girl who’d just got complimented on her dress for the first time from a boy she liked or something, and that, Steve getting turned on, was probably the best possible reaction to that little confession, so that was good.

“I’m going to make it so good for you, though, babydoll,” he said, and it came out all husky and rough and low, and wow, yeah, he was already turned on by this, too.  He leaned into kiss Steve, not touching him with his hands, and Steve moaned and leaned into it, his mouth soft and wet and somehow needy.

“I know you will, Tony,” he moaned against his mouth, and Tony felt his face flush, felt hot and warm all through, because—because that was just the best thing, the best thing to hear, when they were like this.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Good.”  And then, to take his mind off the emotions making his face feel hot and his throat tight and constricted, he said, “Did you wash up like I told you do, hot stuff?”

Steve flushed a little, nodded.  “Yeah,” he said.

“And did you pee and clean up for me all careful before you came in here and sat down?” Tony asked.

Steve nodded again. “Sure thing,” he said.  “Just like you said.”

“Okay,” Tony said, “okay,” and looked down, trying to choose which sound he wanted to use.  “Then lie back, sugar.  Let me make you feel so good, okay?”

“Okay, Tony,” Steve breathed, and lay down.  He was flushed all over, down past his nipples now, down to his navel, and his thighs were bright with it.  He was breathing deeply, like he didn’t quite trust himself with it, which Tony knew was one of the best indications that Steve was desperately turned on.  “Okay,” he said.  “Open that lube for me, babe.”  It was mostly so he didn’t have to touch it and risk touching something not quite sterile, but it was also to get Steve involved.  He didn’t get as in his head as Tony did, but it would still be better for him if he got into it, let himself get lost in the sensations of it, the action.

Steve obeyed, and Tony’s fingers twitched with the urge to touch him, but he controlled them. “Okay,” he said, and held out his right, less dominant, hand.  “Squirt that out on my hand.  That’s it.” The lube felt cool over his palm, and he coated his fingers in it and slid them carefully up and down the sound he’d chosen, leaving the end dry so he could grip it with his other hand. There was plenty of excess lube, so he got his off hand around Steve’s cock, pulling his foreskin down and slicking it carefully over the head, lavishing his attention on the sensitive slit, making sure the sensitive skin was soft and silky-slick with the lubricant. Steve shivered under him, groaning, biting his lip and his lashes fluttering, his hips flexing, and Tony squeezed his cock gently with his hand and said, “Unh-uh, sport, I need you still now, okay?”

Steve nodded, pushed his hips back down to the bed and let out a long, trembling breath, his hands opening and closing against the bed, gripping the blankets in big handfuls. “Still, right, okay, of course,” he gasped out.

Obviously this was going to be a little different from how it had been with Tony, because Steve was already hard as a rock, but Tony had expected that and done his research accordingly.  He still couldn’t resist playing a little more, tracing the soft velvet impossibly vulnerable skin of Steve’s exposed cockhead, the way it made Steve shake and breathe out through his nose and give helpless little noises, running the nail of his thumb around the edge of it, over his wet, weeping slit.  “Shh, nice and wet,” Tony murmured, and then took a deep breath, steadied Steve’s cock with his hand, stroking it just a little up and down with his fingers again, then brought his other hand up and steadied himself to get started.

He ran the sound, bigger than the one he’d used on himself and obviously longer, around the tip of Steve’s cock, first, getting used to the size and weight of it, how it felt in his hand, and enjoying the way it made Steve gasp and whine and whimper. He circled the head with it, then teased it against the tip, once, twice, three times.  Steve was panting, his abdominal muscles tensing and fluttering in rhythmic clenches, and he whined through his nose, but he stayed still, lashes sliding almost shut, head thrown back, and didn’t protest.  The teasing gave Tony a good sense of the comparative size of the sound to Steve’s little opening, and he was relieved that it seemed just about right.  He ran the metal around the round head of Steve’s cock one more time, then bit his own lip and started, slowly, carefully, pushing the sound into Steve’s penis.

Steve gasped, shuddered all over, though he stayed perfectly still otherwise, the muscles in his arms bunching and flexing as he gripped onto his bed.  His head rocked down against his chest, then Steve threw it back against the pillows again, flushing all over, even darker, and moaning even through the way he’d bitten down hard on his bottom lip.

“Shh, good boy,” Tony murmured, unstinting with the praise as he gave the sound just the slightest bit of pressure and it slowly started to slide down, “good, good boy, sweet cock just letting me in, just like that, so good, aren’t you, just relax, Steve, just let it happen, just let me in here, all this metal, sliding right into you, you know I’m good with metal.”

Steve groaned at that, gasped, “Tony.”

“That’s me,” Tony assured him, “right here.”  God, it was sliding in so easily now, just slipping into his slit, his tube, like Steve had always been meant to be fucked like this, so easy and soft.  “I bet you can feel it real well,” he murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on Steve’s cock, though he wished he could see his face, too. Steve’s cock was rock hard and hot as a coal, leaking out precome all over with every millimeter the sound slipped into him.  “All that pressure, metal just sliding into you, past your sensitive skin.  You’re soft and sensitive in there, Steve, aren’t you?”

Steve whined, a gasping snorting breath through his nose, mumbled wetly, “Tony, Tony, oh God, so. So.”

“Feeling yourself get fucked up just like this,” Tony murmured.  “That’s it, sweet boy, just keep relaxing, sweetie, that’s good. Don’t tense up on me.”

Steve moaned, a soft wet gurgling noise, and his thighs relaxed, his hard clenching abs softening just a touch.

“There, that’s good, so good,” Tony told him.  “You’re so good.”

“Oh, God, Tony, how long does it, is it, oh, God, thank you,” Steve moaned, all incoherent wet slurring syllables.  “It feels so, so, so _deep_.”

“That’s because it is deep, honey,” Tony murmured.  It was going into Steve so easily, just sinking into him, none of the tilting and gentle pushing Tony had had to do to get it past whatever weird angles his urethra apparently had in comparison; it just dropped into Steve all sweetly and perfectly.  “All deep and solid inside you where you’ve never been fucked before.  Your last sweet little hole opening up for me like a good boy, like such a good boy, all good and sweet, because you want me to fuck you everywhere, isn’t that right, everywhere I can?”

“Oh, God, Tony, yes, yes, yes, I do, I want it, I want it so bad,” Steve moaned, and when Tony looked up at him for just a second, he was lying flat on his back and just _staring_ down at where Tony was working him with both hands, lashes fluttering wildly and sweat shining on his skin.  All over, God, he’d made Steve sweat like that, gotten him that wet from it.  He could feel arousal now, all through him, hot and twisting in his gut, hardening his cock in his pants until it hurt.  God, this was even sexier than he’d imagined it would be.

“Well, you’re getting it, sweetheart,” he told him, and it came out all hoarse and low and husky.  “You’re doing so well, so well for me, peaches.” Steve moaned, sucking on his bottom lip, whimpering.  The sound was so deep in Steve now, precome sliding up from his slit all over the metal, which was warming slowly from his body under Tony’s fingers, and damn, if that wasn’t sexy, too.  Tony twisted it slightly, letting it move how it wanted to, and felt it as it found its way into Steve’s body just that little extra bit, so that Tony’s fingers were gripping it just a centimeter or so above where it disappeared into him.

Steve was gasping, moaning. He sounded completely wrecked. There was a fine film of sweat covering his stomach, starring his abdominal muscles with little wet droplets, slicking his groin so his fine golden curls were dark and soaked and stuck to his skin, turning slippery wet in the valleys of his hipbones.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Tony murmured, “shh.” He brought his hand down, under Steve’s cock, skirting his balls (high and tight against his body, he looked so damn turned on) to press his fingers in against his perineum.  He felt the sound almost immediately, and Steve twitched, all over, jolted, really, even as still as he was being, his feet pushing hard into the bed and his hands, arms, pulling tight, and a high, desperate, whining noise came out of his mouth. “Hey, hey,” Tony said, pushing the sound gently into Steve’s body, toward his prostate.  He knew right about where it was, even pushing in from the outside like this.  “Does that feel good?”

“Christ,” Steve said, huffing out through his nose.  His voice was deep, throaty.  “Good. G-good.  It’s, it’s incredible, it’s.”

“I know,” Tony murmured, smiling, and the thing was, he really did know.  And then he pushed the sound toward Steve’s body, just enough that it rubbed into his prostate, and Steve gave the most beautiful, wrecked-sounding gasping moan, his whole body quivering all over, but staying so still, and the effort made him flush down to his toes, his flush deepening even hotter over his thighs, around his cock, up over his belly, over his nipples and chest and his neck, his cock burning hot, almost searing under Tony’s fingers.  Tony could have used Steve as a damned portable water heater with that all-over flush—he could feel the heat of him in his hand, just baking off him.  Steve was shaking all over, panting with the effort of staying still, and Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen him so strung out and desperate.  And perfect, that was perfect, because this was always what Steve wanted, but Tony could almost never give it to him, not with a flogger or a cane, couldn’t bring himself to go as hard as he needed and without the armor his goddamn arm would give out before Steve did.  But this, this was perfect.  Steve’s face was ecstatic, agonized, his mouth hanging open and little _uhn uhn uhn ahhhh_ sounds rolling wetly out of his mouth, damp lashes soaked and clinging to his cheeks, hair stained dark wet by sweat sticking to his forehead, his face, his neck all over. He looked like a piece of Renaissance art, a beautiful tormented angel in glorious ecstatic pain, his hair spread out around him on the pillow.

Tony pushed the sound in a bit more, in and out, the same movement he’d used on himself, rolling it against Steve’s prostate until he was certain there were tears on Steve’s cheeks, not just sweat, and he was making the most impossible, desperate noises, his whole body shaking, just moaning and moaning.  And then he straightened the sound with a little push of his fingers, and slid them under it, pushing into Steve’s sensitive flesh, so tender right there, and pushed it up.

It slid easily up Steve’s cock again, and Steve just—cried out.  He was almost always quiet in bed, but it was a hoarse yell, and then Steve had an arm over his head, burying his noises in his wrist, biting into the flesh. Tony let him, satisfied by that yell, the way Steve’s whole body was trembling all over it.  Just that sound, the noise, the desperation of it, went straight to his cock—he’d done that to Steve, he had, made his groin hot, his tip throb.  The sound rose, glistening and wet, out of Steve’s cock as he pushed on it, and he watched the soft rosy flesh of his slit stretch and quiver around it, the way Steve was panting, almost sobbing, gasping and grunting and giving hoarse, choked noises every time he breathed in, following it up with his fingers, and then he just let it slide in again.

He fucked Steve that way for a while, gently, from the inside out, until Steve was gulping and sniffing on each inside breath, his hand gripping and kneading at the bed, his legs splayed and helpless with trembling.  Tony could imagine what he was feeling, the pressure on him from the inside out, the way the soft tender skin on the inside of him felt stretched and invaded, the soft slippery slide, not quite friction, not quite like being fucked, but close.  He could feel his own breaths going unsteady, felt hot all over.  Eventually, he let the sound slide back down, all the way in again, and palpated the metal end of it through Steve’s perineum again, against his prostate, rubbing it in again and again.  Steve went redder and redder, panting harder and harder, begging and pleading almost nonsensically, and finally, when Tony pulled it out, being so, so excruciatingly careful as he did, he came with a yell that was loud even around the fleshy part of the arm muscle in his mouth, spurting come up all over himself in long, pulsing spurts, so much of it that some of it splattered over his nipples, up over his neck and his goddamn lips.

Steve just moaned, panting, tossing his head against the bed, the pillows, writhing in a way that left his hips still, like he was trying to be obedient and still even now the sound was out of him, pressing his face into the pillow and practically sobbing open-mouthed.  “Shh,” Tony soothed, watching him raptly, stroking his cock gently with his lubed hand, rubbing the thumb just under the head, feeling his own cock throb like he could come just from that, from watching.  “Shh, I’ve got you, sunshine.”

It seemed to take forever to Steve to come down, but then he just moaned, licked the come off his lips and moaned like it tasted as good as ice cream, then smiled up at Tony, chest heaving and eyes barely open, and said, “God, Tony, is there more?”

Tony moaned, couldn’t help it—he’d expected it, knowing how insatiable Steve was, it was why he hadn’t moved his hands, but God, God.  Steve was so incredible, so eager and willing to be _wrecked_ , by whatever Tony did to him, could do to him, by _Tony_ , and his hands, and his mouth, and his body, and—God.  His cock throbbed, and he was barely even touching Steve, holding his cock gently, fingers soft on the head, but it was one of the most impossibly erotic moments of his life.  “Sure, big boy,” he said, and his voice came out soft and hoarse and scratchy. “There’s more.”

“Oh, good,” Steve said, and his body just—shivered and relaxed, and … Jesus.  Relaxing for it, for him, like that, just for Tony.

Tony had actually planned for this, so he reached for the next sound—one size down, just the slightest bit slimmer, so that Steve would be just a little loose around it with the way he’d already been opened—and lubed it up carefully with his hand before he brought it to Steve’s tip, tilting him up and pulling gently with his thumb on the head, against the very bottom of his slit, to open him up for it, then started to push it in.

The reason for the smaller sound this time was that so, wet and dripping with lube as it was, it would slide more easily inside Steve’s tight little channel, not leave him chafed or sore or overly raw. It slid in so incredibly easily, even easier this time, like through hot melting butter, and Steve groaned, lashes fluttering.  “Tony,” he moaned, “oh, oh, Tony.”

“That’s right,” Tony told him, softly, “just let me fuck you, sweetheart, just open up for me. God, just look at that, you take it so nice.  You needed me to take you like this, didn’t you, needed me to make you feel it inside your dick.”

Steve was nodding now, moaning, eyes starry and half-open and lashes wet and sticking to each other, staring up at Tony like he couldn’t see straight, couldn’t see much of anything, but couldn’t look away from him either.  “Yes, Tony, yes, yes,” he mumbled, slurred, his mouth mashing the words together like he’d just forgotten how to form vowels and consonants separately. Tony’s heart pounded, hot and hard in his chest.  He let the sound slide all the way down, twisted it and teased it in just a bit until it had reached the same depth the last one hand, but then he pushed it up again, with his fingers, and set a slow but steady pace, pushing so the sound slowly traveled up, Steve’s internal muscles working at it helplessly until the slim shining metal was rod was poking up out of his dick, obscene and glistening in the light, and then letting it slide in again.

By the time Tony had done it three times, Steve was practically sobbing, tremors shaking him all over from his shoulders on down, tears just spilling out of his eyes and down the sides of his face like he wasn’t even crying, just so overwhelmed the tears were being pushed out of him with every slide of the sound down his cock, and yet he was still groaning for it, moaning, his teeth hard in his own arm, his dick throbbing and pulsing with every slide of the sound.  And still, Steve groaned, “Touch me, Tony, please, please.”

Tony hesitated, rubbing his thumb gently over the ball on the head of the sound, just above his cockhead, fingers of his other hand braced against the sound through Steve’s perineum, the thumb braced soft against the base of Steve’s cock.  “Are you sure, sweetheart?” he murmured, and God, his voice came out so husky and throaty.  “It’s going to hurt if I do that.”

“Oh, please,” Steve practically sobbed, rubbing his head against his own arm desperately.  He gulped, swallowed, his voice cracking and low when he spoke again, “Just please, I need it, I need to feel you, touch me, stroke me, T-Tony.  I want you to make it hurt.”

“Well, okay, buttercup,” Tony murmured, and he slid his hand up around Steve’s length, squeezing gently, the gentlest, softest approximation of a handjob he’d ever given Steve, and Steve still cried out, gasping and sobbing, stomach muscles jumping and pulling taut, his wrecked voice loud in the room.

He was so impossibly, ridiculously gorgeous, so beautiful, the most beautiful damn thing Tony had ever touched; it felt like.  Tony leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to the knee Steve had splayed out loosely, thighs open and wet and his legs spread and slack like all his strength had left him as he trembled.

“Is that okay,” Tony mumbled, “is that okay, Steve, sunshine, talk to me.”

“It’s okay,” Steve slurred out, wet mouth against his own wrist.  “It’s okay, it’s perfect, oh, God, hell, that hurts so much, do it again, please do it again.”

Tony couldn’t have resisted that plea anyway.  He squeezed his hand lightly, tightening Steve’s cock around the smooth metal inside him, pressing the urethral wall against the sound, and the noise that came out of Steve’s mouth was wild and broken.  Tony rubbed his thumb up and down Steve’s length, the underside, following the path of the sound, until Steve’s breaths were coming in deep, throaty gasps, his belly twitching, every one so harsh and desperate it sounded like he’d been shot, and then Tony pressed on the sensitive head of Steve’s cock, so sensitive after orgasm he could barely stand to have it touched, always, compressing it against the sound, and Steve made a wild, desperate sobbing sound Tony had never heard before.

He eased off, stared at Steve for a moment, making sure he was all right.  “Color, baby boy?” he asked.

“Oh, Tony, green,” Steve said, all wet slurring syllables.  “Please keep goin’, jus’, please.”

“Sure,” Tony said, with a rueful smile, because of course he would, if Steve wanted it, and pushed on the head again, this time relishing Steve’s choked, wet cry, started to stroke Steve gently up and down as he carefully eased the sound up, then back in.

It took longer, this time, for Steve to come.  His arms fell back to the bed, hands fisting in the blankets, and Tony could see the massive red bitten bruise Steve had left on his own forearm.  He knew it wouldn’t last, but God, it drew his eyes, so angry and throbbing and painful looking, and yet the sight of it was so erotic at the same time, the thought that Steve had done that to himself because of the way Tony was making him feel.  Steve’s gasps had turned to long, shaky, sobbing moans, and he was soaked, glowing with sweat, trembling all over.  Eventually, though, Tony felt it start to build, in Steve’s balls, tight and trembling, the pulsing needy pulls through his cock, and then Steve said, barely understandable, “Oh, please, please, Tony, let me come, can I come, please, tell me if it’s okay, I need, I need you to, to, just let me know, p-please,” his voice tight and desperate like he thought he might die if Tony didn’t, and hell, Tony had _known_ he was holding off, probably afraid to let himself go with the sound still in, but it was just so damn hot, Steve who was always so desperate to come, who came so easily, struggling to hold himself back like that, trusting Tony to tell him when it would be okay in this unfamiliar sexual adventure they were having, when it would be safe for him, when he had Tony’s _permission_.

“Sure, you can go ahead,” Tony said, softly, gently tormenting, just gently pulling on the sound, the tiniest bit, and slid his thumb up the underside of Steve’s cock, squeezing him gently again, as he let Steve’s pulsing, throbbing cock push the sound up itself.  When he pulled it out, easily, carefully, Steve was already spurting around it, and he arched up off the bed, desperately, the moment it was out of his cock, sobbing, got his hand down and grabbed at himself around Tony’s fingers as Tony kept stroking him, working his orgasm out of him, like he just couldn’t stand not touching himself another second.  Tony could see it roll through Steve, each desperate pounding pulse of release, his whole body spasming and clenching with each one, as they stroked Steve’s release out of him together, Steve covering his stomach in his come all over again, until it dripped down over his hips, big messy pulses of it that splattered over his muscles, the ridges of his abs, his pecs.  After long moments of watching it, feeling breathless and flushed and wet with sweat all over, just looking at the red flushed sticky drooling head of Steve’s cock, angry looking and so damn hot under his fingers, the wet red slit where Tony had fucked him open, where his perfect hot little open hole was still pulsing, dribbling, out his come, the remains of his orgasm, Tony couldn’t resist, could feel the need hot and salivating on his tongue.  He put the sound down on the bed, barely aware of it, and leaned in to close his mouth over the wet angry head of Steve’s cock, feeling the little spurts of come blurt out over his tongue as he dragged it over the head, lapped at the slit.  He held Steve’s cock with his other hand and sucked at him, sucked it down, circled the throbbing head with his tongue, God, he could _feel_ how hot and swollen and sensitive and used his slit felt under his tongue, and Steve whimpered, cried out, arched up into him with a helpless needy jerk of his hips, forgetting himself and shoving into Tony’s mouth in a way he almost never did, hands coming down and clutching at Tony’s hair, fingers wet with his own come twining desperately into it, against his scalp and tugging his head down onto his cock.

Tony groaned, reveled in it, shoved his face closer, getting more of Steve’s cock into his mouth until the hot head of it was against the back of his throat, being squeezed and milked by the clenching spasms as Tony swallowed and sucked at him, and he could feel Steve’s shudders so intimately now, the sweet little aftershocks that shook Steve’s whole body.  He got his hands on Steve’s trembling thighs and just _sucked_ , letting Steve roll his hips and moan and fuck his face, spurting come down to coat the back of Tony’s throat.

Tony felt lightheaded and dizzy and buzzing with heat, with light, with everything under his skin, when Steve’s fingers finally relaxed in his hair, let him pull back just enough to sputter wetly, involuntarily, around his cockhead, close his lips and give it a little extra suck, a tease with his tongue, a soft caress around the throbbing wet heat of it, against the even hotter slit.  He had no idea how long Steve had been coming, the taste of it all over Tony’s mouth, his tongue, but he felt like it had been a long time, even for him.  He got his hand up around Steve’s cock, massaged it, working the last little spurts of it out of him, over his tongue, so he could swallow it down.  When he finished, content with the little teasing licks, the soft sucks, he’d been giving Steve’s trembling cockhead until he whined and trembled, hands loose and lax now in Tony’s hair, tangled and looped in the strands like he needed help to hold on, and looked up, Steve was just lying there panting on the bed, moaning a little, his eyes closed and his mouth wet, spit shining all down the side of his mouth and his cheek and his neck. Tony teased the bottom of Steve’s cock with his tongue, reached down, stroked his thigh with his knuckles, and Steve looked up at him, gave a whimpering groan as Tony let Steve’s cock rest on his tongue, gave it one last suck against the oversensitive paper-thin velvety skin, then let it just slide out of his mouth.

Steve’s hand slid down, his thumb sliding over Tony’s bottom lip, pushing in against the pearly drops of come Tony knew his soft wet cock had to have left there as it slipped free, and groaned again, then let his hand fall, his head dropping back.  “Oh, God, Tony,” he moaned, rolling, tossing his head against the pillow.  “Oh, God. God.”  His chest was heaving.

Tony slid himself up to the bed, reached for the soft cloth he’d packed with the sounds for when they were messy and wrapped it around the two he’d used, then set it aside.  He felt hot and prickling all over as he laid a hand on Steve’s belly.  “Good, sweetheart?” he asked.

Steve moaned.  “Good,” he moaned.  “S’good, Tony, so.  So good. I.  I.”  His stomach was still spasming, breathless.  “I didn’, didn’t know.  Know I could, a fella could, anyone could even feel like that.”

“Good boy,” Tony murmured, the heat welling up inside his chest again, not just prickling all over, soft and warm and throbbing, and stroked his hand through Steve’s hair, got him to turn over, roll over and bury his face in Tony’s hip, against his thigh. “My good, sweet boy.  I’m so glad.  That was so gorgeous, you’re beautiful.  You did so well.”

Steve moaned, trembled, clutched at Tony, his mouth open and drooling wet all over Tony’s slacks. Tony stroked his hair, held him close as Steve shuddered, his big body sweaty and wet and shaking and red, so hot against Tony’s leg, and a heavy, sturdy weight, come soaking through the fabric from where it was smeared all over Steve’s chest, his belly.  Tony ran his hand down to the back of Steve’s neck, squeezed it, and just rubbed.  They lay there for long moments, Tony sitting up, Steve sprawled over him, hunched over his leg, curled around him, pressing his face against his hip, until Tony could feel Steve’s breathing start to even out a little.  He groaned, pushed his thighs together, squeezing them tight, rocking his still half-hard, burning hot cock against Tony’s leg.  “God,” he moaned, “my, my slit, it’s still burning a little bit.  ‘s good, so. Good. Uh.”  He grunted, rolled onto his back a little, still pressing his face to Tony’s thigh, holding onto him with one hand, and got his hand down between his legs, took his cock in hand and stroked it, rubbing it at roughly, pulled his foreskin up over the head and rubbed at his slit through it before he pushed it back down again, panting with a thick little _uh, uh, uh_ grunt on the bottom of each breath.  Tony bit his lip at that, logging it for next time, if Steve wanted this again—maybe he’d like it if Tony played with his foreskin more, while the sound was in.

“That’s normal, you know, big boy,” he said, tenderly stroking wet strands of hair back out of Steve’s eyes.  “The burning. It’ll pass.”

Steve breathed low and soft, trembling against Tony’s hip, his hand still on himself, rubbing himself. “That was’so good,” he slurred, chest still heaving so hard it was practically a sob.  “So good, Tony.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Tony said, and yeah, that smile, one that felt soft and warm on his lips, felt like it was all over his face now.  Steve had liked it.  Steve had liked it just as much as he’d expected.  He’d done such a good job for him.  Steve had liked it so damn much.  So much he was still stroking himself, fucking his hand and panting and rolling his hips, and eventually Tony got his hand down, stroked, massaged gently at Steve’s thighs, where he was rubbing them together, then pushed Steve’s hand away from his cock and took over, stroking him, rubbing his foreskin up over the head and stroking his slit through it, tugging it down and giving him little grazes of his thumbnail over the slit, just that little edge of pain. They stayed there for a long time, Steve breathing heavily, all hot and breathless and moist against Tony’s hip, his hand in Tony’s wet slacks, come-damp and sweat-stained from Steve’s body, as Tony built him up slowly.  It seemed to take forever, especially for Steve, who always came fast and hard, ready to go, but eventually he was gasping and moaning like he was in pain, rubbing his face on Tony’s thigh and panting, spurting over himself.  After that, he slumped, went trembling and loose against Tony, and Tony could see how soft and dazed and hazy his eyes were, his face all loose and lax.  He propped Steve’s head up, slid a pillow under it, and rubbed his stomach, idly playing with the come, rubbing it into Steve’s nipples, around and around the hard little nubs in slow, easy strokes, down over his belly, into his navel, stroking his pelvis, under his hips and just above his cock, where the soft curls of his pubic hair started, with the tips of his fingers.

“You’re so good,” he told him.  “You’re so beautiful.  You’re so wrecked, tiger, all for me, look at you.  You’re such a good, good boy, Steve; you’re so beautiful when you let me take you apart.  I’m honored, sweetheart, that you let me, that you even let me touch you.  I hope you feel so good right now.  I hope you always let me make you feel good.  I love you.  I love you and I’ve got you and I’m going to keep you safe, Winghead, I swear. I’m here.”

“Tony,” Steve moaned against Tony’s hip, sobbing and wrecked and low, and his hand squeezed against his thigh.  “Tony.”

“You’re so good,” Tony told him again.

They stayed there for a long time, before Tony left, came back with a couple of soft towels and a wet, hot rag, steaming with heat.  He slid the towels under Steve’s body, then set about wiping him down, from his shoulders down over his belly, soft and careful with his hot, swollen cock, gentle between his ass cheeks and down over his thighs, massaging the wet warm cloth around his ankles, then turned it over and laid it over Steve’s cock, against his groin, letting the heat bleed into him.  Steve just moaned, mouth open and lax and body absolutely helplessly sprawled over the covers, and Tony headed back into the bathroom, wet another, softer hand towel until it was radiating warmth, then squeezed it out, spraying it with a cucumber mint hydrosol on the other side.  He brought it back and wiped the non-scented side over Steve’s face, his neck, back behind his ears, and Steve moaned, pushed up into it, his neck soft and loose under Tony’s fingers. Tony eventually folded the towel, left it over Steve’s face, too, so that he could breathe the fresh scent of it, and went back to stroking his hair.

It was a long time before Steve groaned, reached up and rubbed the towel over his face, dragged it down over his neck and massaged it in there, then pulled it down over his chest, scratched at one nipple through it, shivering a little, and then rolled his head back and over to the side and smiled up at Tony.

“You didn’t come, Shellhead,” he said. 

“Oh, err,” Tony said. Yes, well, that was true, but it was—it had been so perfect, so fulfilling anyway.  He hadn’t needed to come.  It had been amazing.

“I want to make you come,” Steve said.  His face was so soft and relaxed and sweet, his grin sloppy and loose and bright and wide. It made him look young and boyishly handsome, like a college football player from a really sexy version of the 1940s.  “Can I?  Please. I’ll be real good.”

And Tony couldn’t refuse him.  “Okay, slugger,” he said, smiling back, unable to help himself.  “Okay.”

“Mmm,” Steve said.  He swiped the towel down over his chest, grabbed the other and rubbed it against his cock, then down over his thighs, then rolled over on his stomach and reached for Tony.  He might have been fucked boneless, but his fingers were still clever and competent, and he had Tony unbuttoned and out of his slacks in a matter of seconds, clever fingers softly pushing Tony’s hot, damp lace panties (a little sticky now, from precome and need, which was going to be awkward to clean) down over his cock, behind his balls.  Steve rolled them gently and said, “I love how you’re always so put together, Tony, so pretty down here.  You look so good in lace.”

The feeling of a touch against his groin, where he’d been aching for what felt like forever, was like a shock of electricity right against Tony’s spine.  He gasped, arched up.  “Th-thanks, tiger,” he managed breathlessly.  God, the relief of it, just being free of his panties and slacks, let alone Steve’s fingers just gently pressing up on his balls, massaging him so lightly. 

And then Steve was curling his big hand around Tony’s length and taking him into his mouth, sucking softly, and Tony just forgot how to think for a few minutes.  It felt so good, and he traced trembling fingers over Steve’s sweaty hair, let his hand curve at the back of his head, let his hips roll just a little bit, gently, and Steve just—made love to his cock, kissed at the head all soft and wet and loving and careful like he was kissing Tony’s mouth with tongue, kissed down the sides, sucked wet sloppy kisses over the shaft, the base, up under the head, opened his mouth and sucked and rocked his mouth back and forth on it, let it be wet and messy, lips continuing returning to his head in a kiss before he let Tony’s cockhead slip in and push them out wide.  It was soft and sweet and slow, and it felt amazing, and Tony was panting and sweaty, his shirt sticking to his back, sweat trickling down his spine and between his collarbones.  Tony was slightly, barely aware, that Steve was rocking his hips, rubbing his own cock against the bed as he sucked him, like he couldn’t get enough of that slight itching burning feeling, sliding it back and forth like he just needed the sensation there, in the back of his mind, as he sucked Tony off.

And then Tony was coming, gasping as the pleasure just swept over him, sweet and soft.  He curled his fingers in Steve’s hair, careful not to grip too hard, his head falling back as he gasped and felt a low, whimpering groan escape him.  He felt himself go loose, unsteady, and then felt Steve’s strong, warm hands on his hips, catching him, sliding up over his sides, holding him and gentling him down onto his back in the bed.  Steve’s fingers stroked the side of his face, against his beard, and Tony moaned, rolled his head and pressed his face into them, breathed out a wet, soft, open-mouthed kiss against the heel of Steve’s hand.

It was a long time before he blinked his eyes open, felt like he head enough energy to move, and he came back to see Steve lying there with his eyes half-shut, head against Tony’s stomach, a soft warm heavy weight, body curled around and against Tony’s side, his leg.  Tony smiled, reached a hand down and stroked it through his hair.  “Hey there, handsome,” he said. 

Steve beamed up at him. “Hi,” he said, all low and breathy. “That looked like it felt good. Was it good?” 

“So, so good,” Tony breathed.  “So good, Steve.”  He caressed Steve’s lips gently, stroked the side of his face.  “You’re so good.”

Steve just smiled, soft and open, nuzzled into Tony’s hand.  Tony opened his hand, stroked it back over his head, and pushed himself up.

“Oh,” he said then, looking at Steve’s cock, soft and red and raw-looking between his legs, fresh come covering his belly.  “You. You.”

Steve flushed, ducked down and pressed his face to Tony’s leg.  It felt very warm.  “I was, was sucking you and you came and I was rubbing myself off against the bed and it felt so good, I couldn’t, couldn’t stop,” he gasped, all in a rush. “And it burned and I felt it from the inside out and oh, God, my cock feels so raw now, Tony, and it hurts to touch it and I can’t stop.”

“Oh, God,” Tony said. “Oh, God, Steve, you’re so—you’re so hot.”  Not up to his usual standard, maybe, but okay, he’d been struck in the head with lust, like a crowbar, cut him some slack.  He pushed Steve over onto his back, kicking off his own trousers as he went, straddled his thighs, then reached up and grabbed his soft, raw, red cock in his hand and squeezed, and it felt so painfully angry warm under his hand. Steve gave a choked cry.  “Do you like that?” Tony heard himself purr.  “You’re so hot, you’re throbbing, you rubbed yourself nice and raw. I bet that hurts.”

“It hurts, Tony,” Steve gasped, breath sobbing and uneven in his throat again already.

“And you love it,” Tony said, and Steve nodded, and nodded, and sobbed as Tony rubbed his cock, rubbing it with the heel of his hand and pushing it into Steve’s belly, curling his fingers around it and jerking his foreskin, rubbing two fingers along the hot exposed head until Steve was writhing and had both fists against his forehead, pressing his wrists to his face.  When he came, it was with a shout, the kind of shout he let out when he was hurt in battle, and hunched over it as Tony kept stroking him and semen spattered along his belly.

“Tony,” Steve said then, blurry and soft and dazed like he was completely fucked out, like he’d forgotten how to think or speak, and he thudded back down into the bed.

“Nope,” Tony said, and got his hand down, squeezed at Steve’s ass until he was gasping, pushing his hips up. “You get up, stud, I need you to walk as far as the bathroom, that’s all.” 

“You, you, you’re _cruel_ , Shellhead,” Steve moaned, but he got up, slid his legs over the edge of the bed and hunched over his cock, as Tony put an arm around his big slumped shoulders, rubbing them gently, down over his back, stroking his hair as he leaned in and kissed the top of his head.

“Shh, you’ll feel better for a shower, sweetheart,” he said.  “I know, I know, I’m sorry.”  He always felt guilty pushing Steve to get up, after, when Steve could carry him to the bathroom so easily.

“Okay,” Steve moaned. “But, I, uh, I wanna suck you in the shower.  Bath? Shower?  Well, whichever.  I don’t care if you can’t come again, I just want to get my mouth on your cock, Tony, please. Let me make you feel good.”

Oh, God.  Wow.  That was. That was.

Steve was beautiful, Steve was perfect.  That was all there was to it.  “Sure, sweetheart,” Tony murmured, his gut twisting with desire and softness and fondness and need.  “You can do that.  Who am I to refuse such a sweet, pretty request, huh?”

Steve beamed, tilted his head over and pressed a kiss against Tony’s collarbone, where his shirt was hanging open.  Tony stroked his hair, kissed his ear, then swatted his ass, hard.

“Soldier,” he said, “march.” And Steve laughed, groaned and pushed himself to his feet.

Tony had to help him as far as the bathroom, help him into the shower, but Steve was as good as his word once they were inside, folded his big, strong hands over Tony’s hips, kneading the sides of his ass and thighs, and just knelt there and held him up against the wall, and just sucked Tony’s soft, tired cock gently into his mouth and suckled at it, laved at it, holding it there, sweet and constant and Tony was almost amazed at how patient he was being, moaning, eyes shut tight against the warm spray, and eventually Tony remembered himself enough to reach for the shampoo, lather Steve’s hair up while Steve moaned around his cock and laved his tongue over the head.

Tony couldn’t believe it, it almost hurt, but he came in Steve’s mouth for the second time that night, and Steve just moaned and smiled and nuzzled Tony’s softening cock with his cheek after he let it slip out of his mouth, and then opened his mouth to show Tony the come on his tongue, pooling there, and Tony slipped two fingers into it and rubbed them there, feeling it as the water ran over Steve’s lips and mixed with it, until Steve was choking softly, then murmured, “You’re such a good boy; swallow, baby,” and Steve did, swallowing and swallowing, then smiled, bright and blushing, eyes soft and blissful, and leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, and said, “Thank you,” all soft and rough.

“Aw, sweetheart,” Tony said, hoarse and rough, and stroked his hands down over Steve’s head, over his shoulders under the spray.  “’Course. Any time.”

So yeah. Sounding.  Great idea, as it turned out.


End file.
